


1 + 1 + 1 = unity

by Vellev



Series: 1 + 1 + 1 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Bottom Sylvain Jose Gautier, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hallucinations, M/M, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Psychosis, Relationship Study, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Felix Hugo Fraldarius, but they all love each other very much, get these boys to therapy, no one is mentally healthy, oh wait theyre already in therapy, top felix!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellev/pseuds/Vellev
Summary: Living with one boyfriend whose sex drive was at the whim of an endless cycle of different trial medications and one boyfriend whose relationship with sex was so complicated he couldactuallycum on command was, all things considered, exhausting. But Felix managed. And he definitely managed better with Sylvain’s mouth around him.In which Felix searches to find his own love language, and along the way finds happiness in the embrace of a new sweater, the arms of his lovers, and a whole lotta off-screen therapy.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: 1 + 1 + 1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773652
Comments: 42
Kudos: 265
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme, FE3H Kinkmeme Light





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to fill two kink meme prompts at once, and then some light angst made its way in there. C'est la vie. 
> 
> Regular FE3H Kink Meme prompt: <https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=974300#cmt974300> For Dimitri/Sylvain/Felix clothes sharing, partially clothed sex, and size kink.
> 
> Light FE3H Kink Meme prompt: <https://fe3h-kinkmeme-light.dreamwidth.org/452.html?thread=102852> For Dimitri/Sylvain/Felix in general, with some praise kink. 
> 
> All thanks to my best friend/beta [GuiltyBystanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyBystanders/pseuds/GuiltyBystanders)! I made her read porn, again. Thanks, love.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that grand gestures were Sylvain’s language of affection. 

Sure, he would get touchy-feely, sure, he’d whisper sweet words in Felix’s ear over and over until he felt like he could vomit. Sometimes Sylvain would hold him tight and close in the middle of the night, arms wrapped around Felix’s middle, and just tell him that he needed to feel someone in his arms.

But Sylvain cooking breakfast like this was how he truly expressed his love, Felix thinks absentmindedly from where he’s uncomfortably perched on a too-tall chair at the kitchen island. The bacon Sylvain is cooking will certainly set off the fire alarm. But he makes it anyway.

There were small things like this. Cooking in the morning. Going out for groceries when Felix and Dimitri were too fatigued. Bringing toilet paper rolls from the hallway closet to the bathroom if they were running low. He’d give Felix leg massages after long days in the gym. He’d remember to start defrosting the frozen meat at night for dinner the next day, sometimes even slipping out of bed in the middle of the night to do it. He’d buy Dimitri his favorite candy whenever he went to pick up his prescription. 

And then, there were the bigger things. Sylvain always seemed to want to go out on dates. Dinners, movies, museums. Every week was something new. Felix, for one, didn’t really feel the need to go out on dates anymore. They’ve been doing this polyamory thing for over five years now—weren’t they past the dating? And he was sure Dimitri was too distracted with himself to even think about going on dates. But no, Sylvain kept them active and outside, setting up elaborate outings and activities. Felix never minded it. After a while, it had begun to touch even Felix’s own shriveled-up heart. Just the amount of time Sylvain put into setting up dates. Dates, for goddess’ sake. 

And then there were the gifts. It wasn’t just birthdays for Sylvain, no, that would be too simple—though, the gifts Sylvain did get for birthdays and holidays were always far too elaborate as well. No, he’d just get them gifts for no reason. Felix, do you want to try this new type of beer? Here’s some new gloves, Dimitri. A new television set for the house. Game systems. Fancy soaps and candles. Tote bags. Mugs.

Felix sometimes thinks his boyfriend may have a shopping addiction, but whenever he reports this to Sylvain, he only replies that he has a “love addiction,” and buys him some other trivial knick-knack. 

Of course, there was clothing too. He’d buy Felix cashmere scarves and designer jackets and reprehensibly expensive underwear. And then basic things, t-shirts that he thinks Felix will like the design of. Hoodies with the waffle-lining Dimitri says feels good on his skin. 

That very same hoodie which is currently hanging from Sylvain’s shoulders as he wiggles his hips back and forth, happily watching the bacon burn. 

There was no mistaking it. Felix remembers when Sylvain gifted Dimitri the hoodie. Told him that the blue looked good on him and that the inside wasn’t only made of Dimitri’s preferred material, but also ethically sourced, recycled, all that garbage that Dimitri ate up with a spoon. Dimitri had been wearing it yesterday, in fact—Felix remembers quite clearly pulling down the front zipper with his teeth. 

“Is that Dimitri’s sweater?” he asks. They’re letting the man sleep. This was a little game they’d play on rare weekends Dimitri felt up for it—spend all of Saturday night fucking their boyfriend senseless with the vague hope that they’d tucker him out enough that he’d sleep in, free of nightmares. So far, it seemed to be working, and neither of them would dare wake Dimitri up from a seemingly peaceful slumber. 

“Hm?” Sylvain hums, and the slight swaying of his hips stops as he throws a look over his shoulder. A true shame.

“Sweater. Dimitri’s. He was wearing it yesterday.” 

Sylvain smiles at him. “I just picked up whatever. You’re the one who complains about me cooking shirtless, anyway, aren’t you?”

“I don’t complain,” Felix complains. “I think you’re well aware that the idea of you shirtless isn’t something I’ll ever complain about. I just don’t think I’d like you burning your nipples off with spitting oil.”

Sylvain pouts performatively and tugs at the hoodie. It was much too big for Sylvain anyways, obviously bought from the Big & Tall section, and it poofs out at his arms and hangs low to his thighs. Felix wonders if Sylvain is wearing anything underneath. “I’m not going to burn my nipples off,” Sylvain says as if he can be trusted with basic kitchen safety precautions. 

“Like that, you’re going to burn the whole house down.” Felix can see the bacon, every ounce of chewiness fried off, and, as Sylvain always ordered it at brunch, _extra crispy._ Ah, the overcooked bacon one eats for love. 

“Then why don’t you come over here and show me how I can do it better?” Sylvain turns back around and starts waving his hips again, shaking his flat little ass. Of course, the man had a bacon-dance. He had a cooking dance for nearly every meal he knew how to make, Felix thinks. The bacon dance is just specifically good when only their other boyfriend’s hoodie is hanging from his shoulders. Felix easily slides off the chair and gives Sylvain a short kiss and a slap on the ass before he takes the spatula.

* * *

Sylvain’s penchant for stealing Dimitri’s clothes didn’t end there, though. No, Felix is sure that it had not even begun there. He just begins to notice things.

He’d borrow Dimitri’s things, like a belt, or a jacket, just to go out. For no reason, it seemed like.

After following Felix into the shower when coming home from the gym, and letting Felix lick him open and loose under the spray, Sylvain would tie himself up in the soft warmth of Dimitri’s bathrobe. 

It was mostly loungewear, actually. When they tucked in to watch the next episode of _Game of Thrones_ , Sylvain would nuzzle up to Felix under their blanket, cozy and soft in one of Dimitri’s pre-dropout college sweaters, threadbare from use. He’d slip on Dimitri’s slippers after a difficult nightmare that rouses the whole group. He’d wear Dimitri’s socks, padding around the kitchen silently in the middle of the night to fetch a late-night snack or that sleepytime tea he tried to convince Dimitri worked. 

And sometimes, he’d wear one of Dimitri’s loose shirts, so thin and ripped it was practically falling apart, while he rode Felix, and let Felix’s hands tug on the fabric as he thrust up into his boyfriend. Sometimes he’d wear the collar they both had gotten for him, and kneel between Felix’s legs, perfect mouth working at his cock.

And life would go on like that. Sylvain, in Dimitri’s clothes. Felix definitely couldn’t complain. Sylvain looked, unfortunately, good in just about everything he wore. Smelling like Dimitri on top of that certainly wasn’t something to get up in arms about. Felix lets it happen, and tries not to think about it. 

Felix thinks about Sylvain in Dimitri’s clothes, a lot. 

Sylvain never really wore Felix’s clothes.

Now, Felix knows not to get defensive or jealous about anything in their relationship. They’ve grown far past that, Felix thinks. Sure, Sylvain needs a good cry once every two months or so about how he doesn’t deserve them, and how he can’t be sure they actually love him, and that he doesn’t know how to ask for attention. And they’ll lay him out, and press kisses all over him, and tell him how truly and deeply they do love him. And of course, Dimitri has all of his own hardships.

Felix thinks for a while that Sylvain might wear Dimitri’s clothes for Dimitri himself. Dimitri’s sex drive has been low since the worst of his episodes three years ago. The disinterest was caused by a mix between his mind and his medicine, no doubt. Fucking Dimitri’s pain away was out of the question, so, Sylvain’s usual sex guru ways didn’t quite work out and he had to find different ways to comfort when Dimitri wasn’t up for it. 

So, the clothes could be something to do with that, Felix hypothesizes. Feeling close to Dimitri, feeling owned by him in some way, despite not frequently having Dimitri’s bite marks to show it. 

So, perhaps it’s just a thing between Sylvain and Dimitri. 

Felix is, at first, fine with this. They were all bound to have their separate things with each other. He and Sylvain had sex and their never-ending action movie marathons. They had cooking together, Felix’s gym, video games, clubbing, and drinking. Felix and Dimitri had thousand-piece puzzles, gym classes, and hot yoga. They had massages and the same therapist. 

Sylvain and Dimitri had their own things as well. They’d go to musicals, operas, things Felix didn’t care anyone way about. Philharmonics in the park. They’d cook elaborate meals together, and bake lopsided cakes for any occasion they could think of. They’d watch C-SPAN and still somehow talk about high school debate.

So, surely, this clothes thing could be something else for Sylvain and Dimitri alone, right? 

And yet, the thought persists in Felix’s mind.

* * *

It’s not until he is, to put it bluntly, balls deep in Sylvain that he realizes that it’s become a problem.

Sylvain is bowed underneath him, his hands spreading his cheeks as Felix watches his cock disappear into Sylvain’s ass, wet and glistening from a shower. 

Felix’s hand pulls at the leash attached to the thin black collar around Sylvain’s neck and watches the man’s back twist even more at the motion. 

And Sylvain loves it. Of course, Felix likes the way Sylvain keens at the thrust, the way that his hands scratch against his cheek, and he gasps for air over and over like Felix is fucking the breath out of him. He knows Sylvain would love for him to pull the collar a little harder, steal his air from him for a little, but instead he just guides himself in and out of the man. 

The collar had been, originally, a gift from Felix and Dimitri. Something far too expensive for a sliver of black leather, but of course, Sylvain was entirely worth it. But seasons changed, and Dimitri’s understanding of his own body had grown stronger. Now, it’s very rare that two hands hold Sylvain’s leash at the same time, and yet, the man still begs under him with the same desperation. 

And, unexpectedly, seeing Sylvain under him, his collar around his neck, his hickeys on Sylvain’s throat, he realizes that he wants Sylvain in his clothes.

* * *

The easiest solution would be, of course, having a simple conversation with Sylvain. It would go something like this, Felix imagines:

_“I think it would be sexy if you wore my clothes while we banged.”_

_“Why yes, Felix, that was very sexy of you to think. Let us engage in sexual intercourse this very instant.”_

And that would be it. But Felix has never been good at just talking to people and making it clear that he wasn’t starting a fight with them. 

Anyway, he knows Sylvain. They’ve communicated a lot about what they like in bed numerous times. Felix knows it took him a full month to convince Sylvain that, no, he didn’t need to wax anymore, Felix liked his chest hair just fine. Sylvain knows the hour-long conversation it took to explain to Felix that sometimes he just wants to rim him, that doesn’t mean Sylvain wants to top him. Felix knows how to communicate with him about his needs and desires and limits. Sylvain knows how to do the same. He also knows that Sylvain has a flair for the dramatics, and while he could just have a conversation, he also knows that he, Felix H. Fraldarius, is capable of seducing his boyfriend and that Sylvain would enjoy it. 

That seduction, or the vague idea of it, leads him to do a lot of laundry. 

One of the main problems he identifies is that his clothes are often dirty. Felix has always led a fairly minimalist lifestyle. He mostly needs his gym clothes and a few non-gym outfits. He does laundry frequently, so he can rewear his clothes without stinking. This means that if Sylvain did want to steal anything of his, he might be worried because Felix only has a few hoodies or shirts to choose from. So, he starts doing all of their laundry more often. As much as Felix loves the man, he doesn’t think Sylvain wouldn’t be past stealing a hoodie or two once they were properly available. 

None of Felix’s sweaters ever leave his drawers, though, and everything stays in the hamper where he left it when he goes to do laundry again. Hm. 

Another problem he identifies is that his fashion sense might be too far off from Sylvain’s. 

Sylvain dressed, well. In basics, really. Minimalist. He looked like, for lack of a better image, he’d walked out of a Uniqlo catalog. Dimitri’s preppy style fits well into it, Felix thinks.

Meanwhile, Felix’s own non-gym clothes must clash with what Sylvain likes to put onto his body. The unintelligible bramble of letters of a metal band logo on a shirt, or the painted-on tightness of a turtleneck. It could be that Sylvain simply does not want to wear Felix’s clothes.

But, this was Sylvain after all. His desire to be adored by his boyfriends went past just not knowing the band in the logo. No, Sylvain would want Felix’s most ratty and threadbare shirts, the ones perfect for sleeping or getting cozy. He wouldn’t just take Felix’s shirt for a reason like personal style. Their level of gayness far surpassed personal style or fashion. Felix would, at the end of the day, dress like a jock if Dimitri asked it of him (though he’s quite happy Dimitri _didn’t_ ask it of him.)

The third problem Felix identifies is that Sylvain might be afraid to borrow Felix’s clothes. 

Felix could be very particular sometimes, after all. He needs to eat with the same fork and bowl every night. There will be hell to pay if someone else uses his towel. Sylvain knew the look Felix would shoot him whenever Sylvain swipes a sip of his coffee. Felix was, all in all, possessive of things that were his. He liked things in particular ways, and he liked it when those things belonged to him.

So of course Sylvain wasn’t going to just steal his clothes. He was, as much as he pretended not to be, actually quite smart. He had presumed somewhere along the way, probably, that Felix would throw a bitchfit over a stolen sweatshirt. Which was, to be fair, grounded in evidence. Felix had thrown a bitchfit over less before. 

So how can he tell Sylvain that Felix wants him to wear his clothes without directly telling him that?

“This seems a little nonsensical,” Dimitri tells him from where he lays on their bed, book hanging from his large hands loosely enough that Felix can foresee it falling and hitting him on the nose. 

Their house has two beds. One large queen that they can all pile themselves into, and a smaller full bed in case any of them wanted to sleep alone. The days where Dimitri wanted to be alone in his bed were growing fewer and fewer, though, to Felix and Sylvain’s delight. Not only did they get to cover him with kisses before he fell asleep, but they’d also agreed long ago that they’d rather be awoken by Dimitri’s night terrors than leave him alone with them.

But for now, Dimitri is calmly—or as calmly as he can manage—reading a book. He’d told Felix he didn’t want to be alone right now, and the voice he said it in made Felix listen. Not alone would he be. Felix stays with him in the larger bedroom and having finished folding his laundry and putting it away, now sits on the bed next to Dimitri, feet in his boyfriend’s lap, wincing at how incredibly laggy PUBG Mobile was. He tells Dimitri of his woes while he waits for the game to load, as he hasn’t seen him turn a page in the last ten minutes, at least. Better to keep him out of his own head, Felix thinks, even if it means inviting him into his own.

“Why don’t you just ask him to?” Dimitri asks, like anything for Felix was ever that easy. 

“He doesn’t like just being asked. He likes—I don’t know—getting wined and dined.”

“Fe, he sucked your dick in the middle of the living room last week because you let him eat the last miniature Cinnabon.” 

“Exactly, I dined him.”

Dimitri sighs. He manages not to hit himself in the head somehow as he puts his book down, and one of his hands comes to settle on Felix’s ankle. Felix can tell he’s anxious. Not because of this, probably. With Dimitri, talking about things other than himself was often a good distraction from—whatever it was that was happening in his mind. It was one of the many reasons this relationship between the three of them worked so well. They could talk about their relationship without Dimitri having to talk about himself directly. He could still feel included in these conversations, without the need for self-flagellation or guilt. It was just two men, talking about their boyfriend. “I think you know that’s not what I mean, Felix.” 

“So what, he’s easy? It’s Sylvain. I think we all know that.” Felix closes the app for what feels like the fifteenth time and reopens it, faced with the eternal loading screen. 

“He likes directness. He likes pleasing people, Felix. He just wants to do what will make you happy, and will jump at any opportunity you give him to do it.” Dimitri speaks as if he knows, which Felix suspects he probably does. 

Sylvain was, after all, the one Dimitri woke up in the middle of the night if he felt a random spike in his sex drive. What Dimitri and Sylvain did without Felix, of course, wasn’t quite Felix’s business. But still, he loved to see them together, both of his boys.

Dimitri knew an entirely different side of Sylvain sexually than Felix did. Dimitri’s relationship with sex made any interaction he had with anyone different, to say the least. But Felix is comfortable in knowing that each pair can provide different sorts of satisfaction, none more important than the others. 

“I want…” Felix feels his expression sour as words leave him. He puts his phone down on his torso with a huff, and props himself up so he can see Dimitri. 

Of course, his boyfriend is as lovely as ever. His hair is messy from where it was pushed against the pillow and sticks up at random angles. In the past, many years ago, the image would have struck Felix as deranged, but now it’s disgustingly endearing. Dimitri reads with his eyepatch off, as his doctor told him too. Felix likes it—he can see more of his boyfriend’s face. Dimitri looks like he got more sleep than he probably did, his eye alert and shining. His lips are chapped, slightly. Felix immediately feels the urge to kiss him but knows the angles are wrong.

“I guess I just want him to _want_ to wear my clothes. I don’t want to request it of him, I want him to want it himself.”

“And if he doesn’t…?” 

“If he doesn’t, I’ll forget about it.”

Dimitri must be able to sense Felix’s want for a kiss because then he’s readjusting to crawl over to where Felix lies. He presses a kiss against his nose. “You can want things too, you know.”

“Oh, you are not pushing that line on me. Maybe when you start believing it for yourself.” 

Dimitri kisses Felix’s cheek, and then his jaw. Oh, this was much too dirty a game to play. “You’ve told it to me hundreds of times, Felix. _You’re allowed to want things._ ”

“It’s different,” Felix complains.

“It’s not different.” And now, Dimitri’s lips are against Felix’s ear. Felix slowly brings his hands to his boyfriend’s middle, holding him carefully. Even when he got like this, it was rarely sexual, and he didn’t want to touch Dimitri in any way that didn’t please him. “I don’t think the world will implode if you let Sylvain in on the secret that you want to fuck him.”

“In one of my shirts.”

Dimitri bites his ear lobe. “Yes, in one of your shirts.”

“Do you get it, though?” Felix asks him and turns his head to the side, so Dimitri can lay gentle kisses at his neck easier without getting a mouth full of hair. Everything feels warm there, Dimitri’s breath always feeling heavier than most people’s. Felix supposes that Dimitri is probably bigger than most people. “Seeing him, wearing something that belongs to you.”

Dimitri hums. “I get it.” 

It’s always difficult to gauge what mood Dimitri is in. Felix takes a gamble though. “Don’t you want to—”

“Many times.”

“Lay him across a table, tie his hands maybe. Make him bite the collar of your shirt. Watch him fall apart under your hands.”

Dimitri laughs deep in his throat, “What’s to say I haven’t?” He begins sucking a bruise onto Felix’s neck, and Felix is guessing he won’t be getting any words out of him until he’s done.

“If you had, you wouldn’t be all worked up like this now, would you?” No answer. Felix brings a hand to Dimitri’s hair, and digs his hands there, careful not to pull. “He rode me, you know. Wearing your shirt. I should have recorded it so I could send it to you. You wouldn’t believe how good he looked.” He feels Dimitri's breath intake. His lips are soft against his neck, and the wetness he’s already sucked there cools when Dimitri’s mouth is no longer there. “I bet that would be fun, right? Have him between us, smelling like you.”

Dimitri bites down once and then draws his face from Felix’s neck. He looks down at Felix, and Felix looks up at him. “I think that’s enough of that, don’t you?” Dimitri says, making it clear that he wasn’t interested in going too far beyond this. Like Felix didn’t know that already. Felix keeps his hands on Dimitri’s waist, a sign that there’s no rejection here.

“Help me figure out how to get my clothes on him,” Felix asks him, so close he can whisper. It’s not like they’re in any danger of being overheard, Sylvain still at work, far away. 

“I can do more than that. When you fuck him in them, let me be there.” Dimitri kisses him once more, now on the mouth. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Dimitri’s lips aren’t chapped anymore, but soft and slippery against Felix’s when he leans up to kiss him.

* * *

After they’re done sucking face, Dimitri points out a very large miscalculation in Felix’s previous plans. A miscalculation so large, that Dimitri actually laughs at him, and threatens to call up their old high school math teacher and ask him to rescind the A+ in calculus that Felix had lorded over his friends for months. 

Sylvain wore a size large, and more than a few items of clothing in Felix’s closet were women's smalls. 

It was neither Felix’s fault that he liked his turtlenecks extra tight nor Sylvain’s for his barrel chest. Their sizes were, merely and plainly, incompatible. 

But of course, Dimitri is more than willing to play Felix’s sugar daddy. Their day off shopping downtown is positive all-around, as their therapist is always saying that getting Dimitri out of the house is good. They spend the whole day going to various stores, finding sweaters that went to Felix’s thighs, drinking hot chocolate, and eating crepes. Dimitri smiles many times, and the outing is altogether a booming success. 

In the next few days, Felix phases the sweaters into his own wardrobe. 

He suspects it’ll be about a month before they start really feeling like his. At an extra-extra-large, they were closer to Dimitri’s size than his, and he can easily foresee Sylvain slipping them on thinking that they were Dimitri’s. But, no, Felix thinks. He wants Sylvain to _know_ they’re Felix’s when he steals them, puts them on against his naked chest. 

He’s lucky it’s late autumn, and he can wear the sweaters inside without feeling like he’s burning his skin off from the outside in like during the summer. No, now he can laze around in various plain black hoodies that all looked identical but were somehow bought at different stores. 

Over the course of the next few days, he learns a few things about wearing oversized sweaters.

One, his hands were always half covered if he just let the sleeves hang normally. It makes him feel like a toddler. But it’s an easy fix, and he can merely push the sleeves up to his elbow so they wrinkle horribly, or cuff the wrists like a pair of jeans. 

Second, if he walked around in only his boxer briefs and an oversized sweater, it didn’t look like he was wearing pants. Well, he supposes that he technically isn’t wearing any pants, but he’d like to think underwear counted in this specific case. He doesn’t like the idea that his boyfriends think he’s just freeballing. 

Third, Sylvain is all over the idea of Felix just freeballing in an oversized sweater.

It’s the third day of sweater-wearing that Sylvain comments on it. 

But of course, he doesn’t just comment on it. No, he puts his cold, cold hands underneath the sweater and onto Felix’s bare torso while Felix is vulnerable, spitting his mouthwash out after brushing his teeth.

“If this was a horror movie, you’d be dead,” Sylvain says. There’s a laugh in his voice, probably as a reaction to the unmanly noise Felix made in alarm. And of course, it was a mistake to watch _Friday the 13th_ with these two dumbats last night. Dimitri had convinced both of them that it wouldn’t give them nightmares, but when Felix woke up both of his boyfriends had somehow managed to try and spoon him from both directions. Hopeless. 

“If this was a horror movie, you’d be the first to die. They always get the sluts first, don’t they?”

“Hey, don’t hate me ‘cause I’m slutty and proud.” Sylvain’s hands move up under the sweater where they touch against Felix’s waist, up to his torso and back down. “Personally, I don’t think Jason could handle me.”

Felix lets himself be groped and sips water from his hands to remove the mouthwash aftertaste from his teeth and tongue. “And what makes you think that?”

“Don’t have to think about it. Just know.” Sylvain says. He brushes Felix’s hair, still damp from his shower, to one side, so he can lean down to press a kiss at his neck. Felix does his best not to shiver at the scratchiness of his facial hair.

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“I know. Have you been playing with Dimitri?” Felix knows that Dimitri’s hickey is still there, though faint. He’s just surprised Sylvain caught it so quickly. 

“Just a bit. You know I have trouble keeping my hands off him when he’s there looking so big and sad.” 

Sylvain actually laughs out loud at that. “Same.” Still, from behind, he lifts up Felix’s sweater and runs his hands across his back. Felix’s skin still feels slightly damp, and warm to the touch from the unbearable heat of his typical showers, so Sylvain’s hands feel even colder. That would be the best place to heat them up, though, Felix supposes. “Can I suck you off?” he asks bluntly.

Living with one boyfriend whose sex drive was at the whim of an endless cycle of different trial medications and one boyfriend whose relationship with sex was so complicated he could _actually_ cum on command was, all things considered, exhausting. But Felix managed. And he definitely managed better with Sylvain’s mouth around him. 

“Doesn’t sound like you really want it.” Felix smiles, and he knows that Sylvain can see it in the bathroom mirror.

But then, Sylvain is getting down onto his knees already, and Felix has no strength against the magnetic pull that turns him around so Sylvain’s face is against his boxers. 

Sylvain looks up at him with those eyes, the one where he looks like Felix is going to gift him a chocolate factory or turn him back into a mermaid. Of course, it’s a good deal more perverted when he rubs his cheek against Felix’s junk. “I really want it,” Sylvain says, and his voice is already soft, breathy.

Felix has to admit, he loves how Sylvain does drop like a penny from the Empire State Building. One second, he’ll be goofing around, silly as anything, and the next, he’ll be desperate for Felix, looking at him like he can give him the world. He loves having Sylvain—perfect Sylvain with his biceps and his stretch marks and the callouses still on his fingertips from when he learned to play the guitar in the seventh grade—pliant and begging underneath him. 

Sylvain’s hands stroke up Felix’s hips, underneath the sweater, and then down around his ass to grope him through his boxers. Sylvain presses his face clean against Felix’s crotch, not even looking up at him anymore, just breathing him in. 

“Sylvain.” Felix directs him with a hand in Sylvain’s hair. He knows that unlike Dimitri, Sylvain likes getting his hair pulled, so he’s not afraid to let his touch grow rough. “Tell me what you want.”

Sylvain exhales where he has his head pressed against Felix’s boxers. Then he takes another breath in. It looks, for a moment, like he’s having some sort of religious experience, but then. “Please,” he begs. “Can I suck your cock?” This is sort of just how Sylvain is. 

“Carefully. Don’t make a mess, I just showered.” Halfway through the sentence, Sylvain is already lowering Felix’s boxers. 

Felix isn’t even half-hard yet, but Sylvain looks like he’s unwrapping his favorite present at Christmas. 

“Do you want to use your hands?” Learning to dominate Sylvain had a bell curve. In those first few years, it was a rush of finding everything that got the man going, a burst of fun and pleasure and perversion. In the last few years, now that they know each other, they need to ask little questions like this. What flavor of dominance do you want today? They had the time to try out everything. What they didn’t do one day was always an option for later. Sylvain did have to voice what he wanted, though, sometimes. As indecisive as he was. 

Sylvain thinks about it a moment, and Felix can see the indecision blinking behind his irises. It’s torture, probably, making Sylvain make a decision when his mouth is practically watering to get on him. “No,” Sylvain replies, finally.

“No hands, then. Keep them on my legs. No pushing away.” 

At the relief of coming to a decision, Sylvain exhales. In the very same moment, he leans his body down so he can take Felix’s soft cock in his mouth without his hands. 

It doesn’t take too long for Felix to grow hard in his mouth. They know each other like this, know every part of each other. It's only a minute or two of heavy breathing, and the sound of Sylvain’s mouth wet on him. Sylvain’s hands keep running up and down Felix’s thighs, touching them. The years Felix has spent lunging while fencing has paid off, according to Dimitri and Sylvain, and his legs make a good handful. Sylvain has to keep Felix’s sweater pushed up as he sucks him all the way down, his nose pressed against trimmed black hair. Sylvain, as always, looks to be in absolute bliss, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. 

Once Felix is harder, it makes the whole process easier. Now that he stands erect, and Sylvain doesn’t need to dive down every time he pulls off. Now, he can lick up and down Felix’s full hardness, press kisses against his balls. Felix likes when he doesn’t let Sylvain use his hands, like to see him struggle to position his dick right with his face, and how he needs to lean over to do specific things. When he sees Sylvain duck to suck at his balls, and his cock slaps heavy against Sylvain’s face, he moans at the image alone. 

“Am I doing good?” Sylvain murmurs like he doesn’t have the breath to ask anything else.

Felix lets his grip on Sylvain’s hair grow soft. “You’re doing very good,” he says. And Sylvain does need this, the positive reinforcement. He lives off it. “That’s only what I would expect from you, though, hm? Got a lot of practice?”

Sylvain whimpers like a dog and licks a long line up Felix’s dick. 

“You’re going great. Take me deeper.” 

And this is where Sylvain’s real blow job skills came in. He takes Felix all the way down until Felix can hear him gag gently. Sylvain hasn’t taken Felix’s direction to not make a mess to heart at all, spit dripping into his beard and down his chin. He looks gorgeous. He bobs his head like a professional and closes his eyes like he’s savoring the taste. Usually, Felix makes Sylvain look up at him, but he can’t bear the idea of jostling his boyfriend from such bliss. 

Sylvain is always loud when he does this, and Felix knows that he gets off on the throaty noises he can produce. He hums with Felix’s cock in his mouth, moans at the very feeling of it. Sylvain was rarely a quiet lover unless Felix told him to be. In those first few months where Dimitri admitted his sex drive had plummeted, Felix and Sylvain had always been their absolute most careful to not make a sound, to not alert Dimitri of what they were doing. Of course, not too long after, they discovered that Dimitri loves to hear them together, loves to sneak peeks at them through doorways. Felix wonders, absently, if Dimitri is listening to them right now. He had woken up before the both of them to meditate in the living room. Overhearing this probably wasn’t best for meditation focus, but. Felix can’t bear to tell Sylvain to be quieter. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Sylvain’s hands stray up from Felix’s legs, and plant themselves against Felix’s ass, still keeping the sweater lifted enough that he has access to his cock. Slowly, Felix realizes that Sylvain uses the leverage he has on Felix’s ass to pull his hips forward, making himself take more of Felix’s cock.

This would be a good point to take the sweater off, Felix thinks. With how long it was on his body, it was surely just going to get in the way. But he liked the way that Sylvain needed to splay his big hands out to keep it up. He liked seeing Sylvain work for what he needed so dearly. Felix wonders, if he keeps it on during this little escapade, maybe Sylvain will be more likely to realize that it is Felix’s, a part of his wardrobe. 

Felix’s hand is gentle in Sylvain’s hair still, as he pets him softly. “Want me to fuck your mouth, Sylvain?” Sylvain’s eyes open, almost glassy, and he looks up at Felix. He tries to nod, lips still tight around Felix. “You have to say it.”

And god, Sylvain, the beautiful bastard, takes directions like a champ. He looks up at Felix and speaks muffled, cock still in his mouth. Felix can barely make out the words he’s saying, only that he’s begging, and. God, he didn’t even have to tell Sylvain to do that. 

He brings his other hand to Sylvain’s head, and Sylvain easily chokes him all the way down. He looks like he’s in heaven when Felix starts thrusting into his soft throat. 

Of course, if he really wanted to see Sylvain gag, Felix had to wait for one of those special nights where Dimitri was in the mood. Thoughts of Dimitri hands not bound but clasped together behind his back, Sylvain's mouth around him streamed into Felix’s head. He likes to use his hands to press Sylvain deeper on Dimitri’s absurdly large dick, whisper sinful words into his ear as he uses Sylvain’s mouth like a tool to get Dimitri off. Thinks of tears sparking in Sylvain's eyes as he takes Dimitri all the way down, finally a moment where the uber-confident Sylvain feels overwhelmed in the bedroom in the best of ways. Mostly due to Dimitri’s size, but even more the way Felix used it. 

For now, though, Felix’s dick would have to suffice. Sylvain takes him down well, and unlike with Dimitri, his throat poses little resistance, and Felix is fully able to thrust into Sylvain’s mouth like it’s a sex toy. The sounds coming from Sylvain’s mouth feel straight out of a porno, but as stereotypical as it is, Felix can’t help but feel a wave of lust at the moans and gags.

“There you go. That’s a good boy. Take it just like that.” 

Sylvain liked this, the talk. Felix has watched him flush red like a tomato when Dimitri told him he was good at finding things once in a Costco. To say Sylvain liked getting complimented in bed would be an understatement. 

He’s able to thrust into him fast, hard, like Dimitri would never be able to. Sylvain’s hands fall from where he was guiding Felix’s hips, and hang limply at his sides as he leaves his jaw open, taking every inch of Felix. The noises he makes turn downright nasty, muffled moans and gasps, and the sound of his throat struggling to fit Felix’s length. More drool streams down his chin, and drips off his beard and onto the bathroom tile.

“Fuck, Sylvain. That’s good. You’re doing so good.” Felix is biting his lip, and only now just noticing his own moans. Sylvain underneath him groans around his cock, and Felix can see tears gathering at his eyelashes. He looks so happy. “Think you can make me cum?” 

Like it’s even a question. In just a few minutes, Felix is pulling out, hand stroking himself so he can cum into Sylvain’s open mouth, painting his lips white. Sylvain, as always, looks fuckdrunk, face red, a stray tear dripping into his beard. Saliva hangs from his chin and he looks so, so good. 

Felix joins him on his knees, wrestling with the way that his boxer briefs tug awkwardly against his thighs, and immediately feels guilty for making him kneel on the tile. He trusts Sylvain to have mentioned it if it had gotten too uncomfortable, though. This type of thing didn’t work if Sylvain didn’t mention things like that. Sylvain swallows performatively, and licks at his lips, sweeping away any remnants of cum. It looks like he’s forgotten that he has hands. 

“I wanted you to cum in my mouth.” Sylvain says, giving Felix a lopsided grin, but his eyes still look glassy with lust.

“I did cum in your mouth, idiot.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Felix presses his lips against Sylvain’s, and it’s instantly all tongue, all spit. He can taste the remnants of himself on Sylvain’s tongue, but he’s never minded that. “Stay with me, Sylvain. Can I get you off?”

“Just your hands,” Sylvain tells him, and it’s perfect. Direct, specific to what he wants. No pretending he wants one thing or the other thing, no doing that thing where he asks Felix what Felix wants from him. No acting like he wants a blowjob if he can’t handle one right now. 

Felix shifts where he’s sitting on the ground and comes to kneel beside Sylvain to tug the waistband of his pajama shorts down. Sylvain has, unsurprisingly, never been one for underwear, and his dick bobs out, looking hard, angry, and redder than the thin nest of hair above it. Felix’s hand comes up to rub against Sylvain’s beard, gathering the mess of saliva from his chin, and brings his hand to grasp around Sylvain’s cock. Sylvain shivers underneath him, hips tipping forward. 

“Did I do good?” Sylvain asks him, again, and Felix realizes it’s been over thirty seconds since he complimented his boyfriend, so Sylvain is probably already having a mental breakdown. 

“So good,” Felix says, babbling. He didn’t need to be a poet to get Sylvain off like this, not when he was already this close, this intense. He’d ask what got Sylvain into this sort of mood today, but he knows it’s nothing. That’s not quite how Sylvain’s mind works; in the mood, not in the mood. His sex drive was a marvel, albeit a dangerous one. “You’re going so good for me, Sylvain. I’d start to think your throat is made for my cock with how good you take it down.” 

Sylvain only pants, his hips thrusting forward in Felix’s hand as he strokes him. Felix can’t imagine that he’s very far off, but still, he wants to see how far he can push him. 

“Do you like that, Sylvain?”

“God, yes,” Sylvain says, breathless. Felix will never get over the rawness in his voice after he’s had his throat fucked in. “Need to be made for you. Need to be good for you.” 

“Good boy.”

Felix can see Sylvain’s hands twitching around nothing at his sides.

“You can touch my shoulders if you want.” And almost instantly, Sylvain’s hands are against Felix’s shoulder, gripping him tightly as Felix wrings his pleasure from him. 

Felix kisses him again, all tongue. There were so many infinite ways to kiss his boyfriends, but this was one of his favorites, feeling Sylvain’s big tongue against his own as Felix searched around inside and took everything from him. He knows, in his head, that it will only take one word, but he gives Sylvain a couple more. 

“Cum for me. Now, Sylvain.” 

And Sylvain moans deep and loud, breath heavy against Felix’s lips as he releases, cum spurting from his cock and onto the tile flooring. This was always one of Felix’s favorite tricks, how it only took a simple direction, and Sylvain would unravel himself for him. He squeezes him and strokes him through it until nothing else comes out and his hands loosen their grip on Felix’s sweater. Sylvain’s head rocks forward and meets his left hand, resting gently on Felix’s shoulder. 

Felix brings his clean hand up to stroke through Sylvain’s hair. “There we go. Very good. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“Thank you,” Sylvain says, automatically. A strange habit of his, something they’ve spoken about enough times that Felix has lost track of what Sylvain seems to think it means.

He shushes Sylvain successfully, telling him that getting to use him was his absolute pleasure, rubbing Sylvain’s neck, telling him he was perfect in every way. Eventually, energy comes back into Sylvain’s fingers, and when he pulls away from Felix’s hold, his eyes have refocused, and he looks directly at Felix. 

“Good,” Felix tells him, bluntly. He liked seeing the life back in Sylvain’s eyes more than anything, more than the puppy-dog look he gives Felix when on his knees. “Let's get you cleaned up. You need a shower, don’t you?”

Sylvain nods at him, and then up they go. It’s not long to get to the shower, barely even a step really, and Sylvain walks there himself easily. 

It’s easy for Felix to start undressing Sylvain, the thin white t-shirt he wore pulling easily over his head. Sylvain’s pajama shorts come off equally easily, as he’d gotten a lot better at lifting his feet up one at a time so Felix could take them off one leg at a time. So he gets Sylvain there, standing naked as the hot steam of the running shower clings to their skin.

“Join me?” Sylvain asks, after a few moments of standing in front of the shower.

Felix measures his options. On one hand, he just showered. If he overwashes his hair, it won’t be soft to the touch or shiny to the eye, and he doesn’t want to deal with bad hair days for the rest of the week.

On the other hand, Sylvain is adorable, and stepping into the shower with him was a frequent wet dream of high school-Felix, so he really couldn’t refuse it now. Not when Sylvain was looking at him with those eyes. Not when he needed to feel Felix’s hand on his body, needed to stop breathing so hard. Felix nods his head. 

Just as Felix begins to take off his hoodie for the shower, Sylvain’s hands are on the hem, lifting it up for him. With the humidity of the bathroom and some other dampness in the air, the fabric feels like it’s peeling off of him like a wetsuit. 

“This is new,” Sylvain says, seemingly out of nowhere, still holding the black fabric.

“What is?” 

“This sweater. It’s new, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you wear it before.”

“Just bought it recently, actually.” 

“Mm.” Sylvain sets the sweater down on the floor, and even though it’s steps away from the shower, Felix still knows it’ll get wet. Felix takes off his boxer briefs and notices how tight they had felt around his thighs in the first place. “I was sort of hoping you weren’t wearing boxers underneath it when I came in.”

“Not all of us just go commando everywhere,” Felix teases. He puts a hand under the water’s spray to gauge the temperature. 

“Maybe you should start.” Sylvain looks at him, and a hand slides around Felix’s waist. Sylvain needs to lean down to kiss Felix’s shoulder. 

“If it gets me more of this sort of attention, I don’t know if I can refuse.” Felix turns to kiss him once on the lips, and then coaxes Sylvain into the shower and follows him in himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i noticed while editing this chapter that i make these boys shower like. a lot. they're just constantly showering. clean boys. 
> 
> as always, many thanks to my lovely beta/best friend, [GuiltyBystanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyBystanders/pseuds/GuiltyBystanders). i love you, bitch!!!

Felix wears the sweaters more and more. Sylvain never questions it much more than that time in the bathroom, but Felix supposes that it wasn’t too strange. He’s gone through more daring fashion experiments in the past. There were six months that he started wearing chunky chain necklaces and big O-rings on his belt. There were the four months where all he wore were heels. All winter he still wore those over-the-knee boots. Comparatively, a few oversized sweaters weren’t too big a deal.

He wears one to the museum on a date with Sylvain and Dimitri one day. The pocket is the perfect size to stuff the map inside and forget about it. That very same day, he and Sylvain figure out that the pocket is also the perfect size to sneak a bag of Twizzlers into the movie theater, but then Dimitri ends up spending over forty dollars on popcorn and sodas anyway. 

He wears another sweater to a picnic date, underneath a heavier jacket. The temperature is beginning to drop, and Felix wonders, absentmindedly, if this Halloween will be a cold one. They eat bread and cheese (Felix pops a Lactaid, but knows that he’ll take any divine punishment coming to him for some fancy brie) and drink wine they’re not supposed to have out in the open of the park. It’s nice, and the sweater keeps him warm. 

Sylvain never takes it, though, any of the sweaters. He never slips them on to cook “extra-crispy” bacon in the morning. He never sneaks them out of Felix’s laundry hamper to take a nap in. Never wiggles them on to pick up a takeout order from downstairs. 

Felix doesn’t give up, quite. But he doesn’t talk to Dimitri about it more. He lets the thought loom in his mind when he plans various play scenes with Sylvain, instead, telling himself that it would be all the better if he does wait, all the better if he doesn’t ask.

* * *

The first time Sylvain wears Felix’s sweater is a month later, around 4 AM. Their apartment is small, and while the walls weren’t quite thin, it wasn’t exactly difficult to hear Dimitri scream bloody murder from the other room. But no, it’s not the screams that awaken Felix, but Sylvain’s hand gentle but curt on his shoulder. 

“Felix,” he says like he’s said it a few times now before Felix actually awoke. “I’m going to go wake him up. Come with me?”

The loud episodes were actually the better ones, Felix and Sylvain had learned over the years. When Dimitri is silent, paralyzed by his own fear and anger, staring off into space and seeing things that aren’t there, there’s little Felix and Sylvain can do to help him. They’ve learned some things, but, when Dimitri is like that, sometimes he blends in so much it’s hard to see that he’s breaking down. 

In the loud ones, he was more likely to listen to them, more in his own body. It was easier to tell that they were happening—the whole block knew they were happening probably, from the level of Dimitri’s shrieks—and easier to give him some form of comfort. The loud episodes had stopped turning violent years ago, Dimitri’s mind and medication turning him from anger to sadness. A nightmare would be fine, both Felix and Sylvain know. Nothing to call in about. Dimitri just needed hands bringing him back to shore. 

Sylvain told Felix at some point that he thinks the nightmares are because of suppression. That Dimitri suppresses all of his feelings, spends all day trying to fit this typical illustration of “stable” he’s drawn in his head. He spends all day denying the voices he hears, and then at night, everything breaks loose. He needs to voice his thoughts sometimes, and more than just the times he sees his therapist.

Felix reminds himself that he has to stay calm, he thinks, while he throws on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He runs through things that his therapist has told him, as well as the things he’s learned over the years. He needs to listen to Dimitri’s delusions, but not validate them. He needs to come off as confident, but not in control. He and Sylvain need to guide him through this gently, not force him in a direction he doesn’t want to go.

They would have handled it so differently, so much more erratically years ago. But now, their movements work like clockwork, knocking on the door to Dimitri’s room before opening it. 

The sheets and comforter and weighted blanket on Dimitri’s bed have all been torn off, and are boobytraps on the floor as Sylvain and Felix stand in the doorway. Dimitri doesn’t sit on the bed like usual, but stands, towering, head almost brushing their low ceiling. Dimitri lost his shirt somewhere in the night. He looks at them when they open the door, but it’s obvious his attention is somewhere else, another place in the room. He looks at nothing but his dresser, but the fear in his eye speaks volumes.

“Dimitri,” Sylvain says beside him, and good. He’s good. His voice sounds controlled, calm. Getting his attention, but not commanding it. 

Dimitri looks back at them. Felix used to hate seeing him like this. It burned something in his chest, cracked something in his mind. But over the years, enough times over, he got used to it. He doesn’t like it, certainly, but it doesn’t keep him up at night anymore. 

Sylvain steps forward in the room, and Dimitri doesn’t back away, but rather comes to meet him in the center. Dimitri’s arms come around Sylvain before Sylvain can even reach out to him. Sylvain isn’t even that much shorter than Dimitri, but something about Dimitri’s imposing stature makes Sylvain seem small in comparison, as Dimitri pulls Sylvain against his chest. 

“You’re okay.” Dimitri actually sounds relieved, and hugs Sylvain tighter. Felix wonders, for a moment, how easy it would be for Dimitri to break their bones if he didn’t pay attention. Then, he remembers that he actually knows exactly how easy it is. How easy it was. He blinks his eyes and approaches the two. “He broke in through the window. I swear it. He was in here.”

“We’re safe, Dima,” Felix says, and touches Dimitri’s hand where it clutches against Sylvain’s back. “Nothing hurt us.”

“He was going to kill you, Fe, he _told_ me, he said he was going to kill you, both of you, and I couldn’t move, I was just stuck there, and—”

“We’re fine, Dimitri. We’re safe.” Sylvain is always good at times like this. Felix doesn’t really know how, but every trick he knows he learned from Sylvain. It’s easier to have two people helping Dimitri than just one.

Felix wonders who it is that Dimitri thought he saw. His own father? Glenn, again? There was a reason why they didn’t ask who Dimitri saw anymore, a reason Felix’s therapist has gone over with him dozens of times. He tries to stop his mouth from pulling into a frown when Dimitri pulls away from Sylvain to hug him. 

Getting hugged by Dimitri like this is always a little uncomfortable. Felix likes it much more when they’re horizontal, and he can be at face level with Dimitri, kiss him gently, hold his wide shoulders in his hands. But like this, all he can think is that Dimitri is—big. He’s too big. He feels too big around Felix, like a sleeping bag or a coffin. Felix likes his boyfriends’ sizes plenty, but at moments like these, in the dead of the night, when he has no control over the situation, it’s downright scary how much larger they are compared to him. He breathes through his nose and lets Dimitri squeeze him, and he can feel the man’s tears begin to subside, making way for paranoia. 

Felix realizes, slowly, that he’s panicking. Dimitri might be having an episode, but somewhere along the way, Felix himself stopped being in control and started panicking. 

Maybe it was the fact that there wasn’t any glass on the floor, even as Dimitri tells them to be careful of where they stepped. Maybe it was the fact that a break-in was far too realistic in an area like this, in their lives. Maybe it was the fact that he let himself think about Glenn, and now he can’t stop thinking about Glenn, about Glenn and Dimitri, he can’t stop thinking about that episode where Dimitri looked him in the eye, called him by Glenn’s name, fell to his knees, apologizing to him, begging him for forgiveness. 

Suddenly, Sylvain’s hand is on his shoulder, and Felix realizes that he didn’t notice when Dimitri stopped hugging him. Sylvain leans down to him, looks him in the eye. He speaks quietly. “He wants to check the apartment. You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Sylvain looks at him, and Felix can see the attempt at controlling the situation behind his eyes. Sylvain was dealing with enough here, without needing to worry about Felix as well.

“I’ll be fine,” Felix tells him, after a moment that draws on a bit too long for his liking.

“You can step out if you need to. You know I can handle this.” 

“I don’t want you to have to handle it alone.” Felix still feels small, somehow. And, as much as he wants to push back, feel big, he knows now’s not the time. The worst thing to do was to tell Dimitri his delusions weren’t real. He and Sylvain had to balance a delicate line, neither validate Dimitri’s delusions nor deny them. They had to tell him he was allowed to be afraid, but also not directly tell him that what he was seeing was real. 

“Fe. Why don’t you go wash up a bit? I have him. Let me take care of him.” Sylvain, for some reason Felix doesn’t quite understand, presses a kiss against Felix’s cheek. Over his shoulder, Felix can see Dimitri turned the opposite way, looming in the doorway. “I’ll come back, okay? Don’t go to bed yet.”

Felix nods and stands there a moment while Sylvain and Dimitri walk out to the rest of the apartment. He can hear Sylvain telling Dimitri that Felix is going to tape up the broken window. All of the windows are intact. There’s no glass on the ground.

Felix takes Sylvain’s advice, and into the bathroom, he goes. The cool water feels good against his face, but Felix also knows that it’s the last hope of him getting any more sleep tonight. He uses one of Sylvain’s absurdly expensive face washes and lets the foam lather up on his face. He doesn’t look at his face in the mirror when he washes it off.

He knows he looks like Glenn. It’s not a surprise. It’s not rare to grow into the spitting image of your brother. He’s older now than Glenn was when he died. He should only look like himself. But still, whenever he moves, he feels like he’s wearing his brother’s skin, like some kind of sick nightmare. He knows it’s not the only way Dimitri sees him, that after all these years Dimitri has stopped seeing Glenn when he looks at Felix even when he’s like this. But the thought persists in his mind. 

Felix doesn’t know how long it is until he hears Sylvain knock on the bathroom door. It’s still open, Felix knowing better than to close himself in at a time like this. He looks back at Sylvain and realizes that it’s been long enough that the water on his face dried without a towel.

“Dimitri?”

“In bed,” Sylvain says. He leans against the bathroom door, in that relaxed way his body does, but Felix has been with him long enough that he can tell he’s exhausted. “He wanted to be alone, he said. He was tuckered out enough that I think he’ll just sleep it off.”

“He’ll get nightmares,” Felix says, not even defending Dimitri, just stating the obvious. 

“He’ll get nightmares anyway.” Sylvain takes his big hands and shoves them into the kangaroo pocket of his sweater.

No. _Felix’s sweater._

Felix wants to laugh at how absurd it is. The large plain black sweater, hanging from Sylvain’s shoulders. He’s wanted to get Sylvain into his clothes for so long, and of course, it happens now. 

“The house?”

“All clear,” Sylvain replies, and of course, it is. Before Felix knows it, Sylvain is gathering him in his arms, hugging him close. And, in this hug, Felix feels a little less small than he did with Dimitri. “He got a lot more comfortable when we checked everywhere.” 

“Good,” Felix says because he doesn’t really know what else to say. Dimitri still had episodes somewhat frequently. And still had nightmares almost nightly. They just rarely happened at the same time, the hallucinations and the dreams. Together, they made a dangerous combination. 

“How are you doing?” Sylvain asks him and pulls away from the hug. His hands come to grasp at Felix’s, focusing his whole attention on him. 

“Better, I think.” It wasn’t a lie. Staring at the sink for a good ten or twenty minutes had definitely helped something. “Tired.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Felix thinks. Does he want to talk about it? Not really. He’d rather not talk about most of his emotions, if at all possible. Should he talk about it with Sylvain? Almost absolutely not, this is what he had a therapist for. Sylvain had already done enough of emotionally supporting his boyfriends for one night. He shakes his head. 

“Let’s get to bed. How about that?” 

He lets Sylvain bring him back to bed, and instead of undressing again, they lay down in their lounge clothes, with just a thin sheet on top of them. Sylvain has pulled Felix to rest his head on his chest, and Felix must admit that he doesn’t mind the pillow. 

Sylvain pulls the hair tie from Felix’s hair and combs through it with his fingers through it. The gesture calms both of them, and Felix lets his eyes close, though not yet expecting sleep to come. 

Unsurprisingly, Sylvain is the first one to speak.

“I love him a lot,” Sylvain says simply like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Felix pauses for a moment, understanding the depth of it. “I love him too.”

Sylvain just pets him, and Felix breaths in through his mouth and out through his nostrils, feeling the warm air against the skin of his hand. 

“It’s been a few weeks, since the last time.” Felix already feels like the words are pointless while he says them. 

“I love you so much,” Sylvain says, this time, and he shifts Felix in his arms so he can press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It hasn’t gotten to me that badly in a while.” Felix lets himself bury his face in Sylvain’s chest. Good chest. Soft in his sweater. 

“You’re allowed to let it get to you.”

“I should have been in there helping you more. I shouldn’t be—you shouldn’t have to be dealing with both of us like this, not at the same time.” Felix isn’t supposed to be putting this on Sylvain. It’s not Sylvain’s job to manage both his and Dimitri’s mental health. It was Sylvain, for god’s sake, he had his own horrible slew of problems and still refused to go to a therapist for them. But still, here they were, putting too much pressure on someone who wasn’t the picture of stability himself. It was Felix’s job to be the stable one, to be the fine one. He was the one supposed to rub Sylvain’s back and tell him that he wasn’t fucked up by his own relationship to sex. He was the one who was supposed to help Dimitri check the house at night. 

Sylvain’s hand tucks a piece of hair behind Felix’s ear, and he can feel the man straining to look down at him. “I’m happy to do it. I love it, I love all of it. I love both of you.” 

“You can’t love watching him hallucinate.” Felix knows that his voice grows too sharp, but Sylvain keeps petting his hair all the same.

“Well, I don’t mean that part.” Sylvain sighs, and the rise and fall of his chest lift Felix’s head. He feels nestled in the black sweater—Felix’s own sweater—above Sylvain’s soft chest. “Or maybe I do,” Sylvain says, after a moment. “I love all of him. Even this bit, it’s a part of him, right? I like being able to help him through it. I like being able to help you through your stuff.” 

Felix realizes that he can hear Sylvain’s heartbeat, even through the thick cotton of the sweater. “I love you, too,” he says, against Sylvain’s chest. 

“You’re allowed to feel things other than frustrated, Fe. Hell, you’re allowed to feel frustrated also.” Sylvain’s hand stops petting him, and instead just rests atop Felix’s head. Felix keeps his eyes closed and lets himself fall victim to the rhythm of Sylvain’s heart in his chest. “All I’m saying is, if you need a break, you need a break. If you don’t want to be in that room, you don’t have to be in that room. You’re allowed to just. I don’t know, you can just ask for the things you want.” 

Felix lets the thumping of Sylvain’s heart lull him to sleep, his head pillowed on the softness of Sylvain’s chest and his sweater. He lets his mind think about that. Asking for the things he wants.

* * *

The world goes on as normal. He goes to therapy. Dimitri goes to therapy. They put Dimitri on some new pill, one of the first-generation ones that make his hands shake sometimes when he’s trying to be still. Felix and Dimitri hold Sylvain in their arms and tell him all the reasons they love him. Sylvain continues to burn the bacon, Dimitri continues to read his books, and Felix keeps on thinking about sweaters. 

He’s at the gym one day, drinking water after a lesson of running sets with a new student. A soft-spoken redhead woman, on the petite side, who said that her music wasn’t enough to get her anger out anymore. Punching the heavy bag certainly seemed to get something out of her as she screamed something about her wife. It was a good session, and Felix tells her that she’s welcome back at the gym whenever for a more formal lesson. 

The last person he expects to see at the gym is Dimitri. 

It’s mid-day, but a Sunday, so he supposes it makes sense that Dimitri wouldn’t have any Skype meetings. The gym is bustling with people, and Dimitri shifts around the sweaty bodies awkwardly, still fully clothed. Felix actually can’t remember when Dimitri was last at the gym. It must have been during the opening celebration when Felix had cut the silly ribbon that Sylvain had somehow convinced him he needed to have. But here Dimitri stood, alone. Wet? Felix supposes it had been raining outside, a cool October shower.

He weaves his way through the busy room, and towards Dimitri, who looks a bit like a drowned rat with his hair dripping. 

“Felix,” Dimitri sighs, upon seeing him. 

Felix watches his boyfriend and leans on one of his hips. That girl had a lot of energy in her, and his side already feels a little sore from when they’d had a mock match. Why was Dimitri here? He doesn’t look out of his mind, Felix thinks. “Dima. What are you doing here?” 

Dimitri looks at him, with a little bit of a nervous smile. “You forgot your phone. We’ve been calling you all morning.”

“Did something happen?”

“Oh, no.” Dimitri shakes his head, and the water flicks from his hair. “We just… I just. I didn’t want you to be without a phone.” 

Felix nods. Years ago, he would have been angry about it. Dimitri entering Felix’s place of employment without warning, for no reason but to settle his own anxiety? Felix would have been furious about it. But now, that frustration is only a memory. He’d be even more worried if Dimitri went out without his own phone. Can he really complain? 

Dimitri gives him his phone, and it’s zipped up in a Zip-loc bag when he produces it from his pocket. Cute. He knew it was raining.

“Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?” Felix asks him, sharply. “You’re going to catch a cold.” The water from Dimitri is dripping onto the ground, and Felix will probably have to mop. But, honestly, with the amount of movement and wet shoes in the gym, he’d have to mop multiple times anyway. 

“I wanted to feel the rain,” Dimitri explains, and the words must sound odd to him also because he continues. “I just thought it would be a nice change of pace, no?”

Felix hums affirmatively. Surely enough, when Felix gets his phone out of the baggie, there are a number of missed calls there, and a few notifications from various apps. 

Dimitri looks around the room, at all of the hustle and bustle. “I haven’t been here in so long,” he says, finally, after taking in the sights.

“I’d offer you a tour, but I think we’re too busy. We’d just end up getting in someone’s way.” 

“I’m happy it’s doing so well, nonetheless! Maybe you can give me a tour after-hours someday.” There’s something Felix can detect in Dimitri’s voice, but he’s not sure yet. He sounds excited about something, somehow. Like he has some sort of secret, but Felix isn’t sure if it’s the good kind yet. “I remember when this place was just a dream of yours.”

“There’s no point in reminiscing about the past.” 

“It was very cute, you know. I remember you telling me about it back at GMU.” 

“Shut up, Dimitri.”

Felix remembers it too. Back in those days, before he had grown his hair long, before Sylvain switched majors, before Dimitri dropped out of Garreg Mach University altogether. Before any of them were dating but were stuck with a weird mix of crushes none of them felt comfortable with. They were all sitting in Sylvain’s dorm room, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark plastic stars there, and Felix remembers the alcohol and weed in his body making him feel tired and buzzing at the same time. He remembers telling the two about his dream to own a boxing gym one day, to show people the confidence they could feel with gloves on. Talking about the strength he had found in throwing a punch. He remembers it well, the time before Dimitri’s episode when the world crashed down on all of them. 

He supposes now he’s there. Where he dreamed of being back in college, with his own gym and both of them his too. The thought makes him smile, but also look at Dimitri closer. 

“Do you like it?” Felix asks, surprised by the words coming out of his mouth.

“I love it,” Dimitri tells him with a smile. He looks around the room again. “I think it’s perfect. I love everything about it.”

Felix knows that Dimitri doesn’t really know anything about boxing, or how anything that Felix does here works. Spaces that expect violence, like this one, aren’t the best for him. The thought touches Felix all the same. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a look around? You can stay here if you want, and watch. I don’t have another lesson for fifteen minutes.” 

Dimitri looks at him. Bites his lip. “Are you sure I won’t get in the way?”

Felix smiles at him sideways, “Come here,” he says and grabs his hand. “You can stay for a little while. We just need to dry you off a bit first,” and then he’s whisking a very wet Dimitri to the locker room. 

The towel over Dimitri’s head gets most of the job done. The sweatpants Dimitri wears aren’t as wet as they look, and the sweater he wears looks like it’s --

Ah. It’s Felix’s sweater. 

“That’s my sweater,” he says, stupidly. 

“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to notice,” Dimitri says quietly, and Felix can hear the smile in his voice. 

“You bastard.” 

“You know, you’re pretty oblivious, Felix.”

Felix lets his hands come up to touch against the chest of the sweater Dimitri’s wearing. His sweater. It fits Dimitri so much better than it does him that he didn’t even notice it wasn’t Dimitri’s. It looks good on him. His hands get wet when he touches it, but he can’t stop. 

“I thought you’d notice the second I walked in here.”

“Dimitri…” He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. But there, Dimitri was, wearing his sweater. 

“I know that you wanted Sylvain to wear one, mainly, so I know this isn’t exactly what you want. But I thought hopefully I might make a good alternative.” Dimitri looks pleased with himself. It looks good on him, but it also makes Felix want to mess him up in horrible ways. 

“You’re nothing close to an alternative, Dima.” He brings his hand up and down the sweater, touching Dimitri’s pectorals through it. “You’re a good deal better than that.” 

“Good. I didn’t want to disappoint. I thought it would be a fun surprise.” 

Felix wants to kiss him, but they’re still out in the open, in the locker room. It was a busy day. But still, he wants. “Better than a surprise. I’m happy I didn’t notice back in the main room, I probably would have ravished you right there.”

“Ravish me, hm?” Dimitri looks down, and there’s a sort of lust in his eyes as well. “You still have fifteen minutes until your next lesson, right?” 

And so, they spend fifteen minutes making out in one of the empty shower stalls, Felix’s hand pressed against Dimitri’s abs underneath the damp sweater.

* * *

The second time Sylvain appears wearing Felix’s sweater, Felix doesn’t even quite know what to do.

He doesn’t know what he had imagined. Maybe he thought that one morning he’d wake up, and Sylvain would be wearing it, doing his bacon dance, and Felix could fuck him against the kitchen counter. Or maybe he thought that one day, when he was already curled up on his phone in bed, Sylvain would come in, wearing it, tell him he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and Felix could tie him to the bed frame. 

He supposes any situation would make him feel this way, though. Because here he is, on a Thursday afternoon, coming back from an after-school lesson he taught, and there Sylvain was, laying sideways on the couch, watching _Love Island_ , Macbook Air balanced on his sweater-clad chest. 

Felix can immediately feel his heart start pounding, blood pumping through his veins. He almost feels a little dizzy with just how quickly turned on he is. He’s excited, and almost a little nervous. Sylvain was wearing his sweater.

How long had he been wearing it? He probably got home an hour or two before Felix. His hair was still a little wet, so he must have showered. 

Sylvain looks up at him when he walks in, smiles at him, but then continues watching his program, headphones in. 

Felix hadn’t had a short day. In early in the morning for businessmen's pre-work lessons, back late in the afternoon for the after school sessions. He should stop teaching and manage more, like Sylvain and Dimitri tell him, but he loves what he does. He’s still tired, and his left knee is concerningly sore. He took a shower after work, but he doesn’t feel like it was long enough or thorough enough, he hadn’t even washed his hair. 

His focus on the dryness of his skin or his own exhaustion is pushed from his brain, replaced only with his fantasies of the past few weeks. 

He’s out of his shoes before he knows it, keys set down somewhere, bag thrown to the floor, and then, he’s squatting by the couch beside Sylvain, whose eyes leave the screen and settle on him.

“Hey,” Sylvain says, and before he can say anything else, Felix’s lips are against his, tongue in his mouth. 

Sylvain melts into him in a moment, his hands coming to Felix’s hair, taking the band out. What a bad habit. Felix usually would scold him for it, but right now he can’t find it in his heart to stop kissing him. 

Sylvain’s fingers run through his hair, and he starts pulling him closer, so Felix blindly closes Sylvain’s laptop and slides it between Sylvain and the back of the couch, so he can scramble on top of him to kiss him better. Sylvain’s hands are already all over him, and he’s so good, he’s so _good._ Felix pushes forward a bit, following Sylvain’s lips even when his boyfriend pulls away from the kiss. 

“Now, I can’t say I mind, but I really gotta ask. What have I done for the honor of having you in my lap?” Even as Sylvain talks, Felix presses kisses against his face, his cheeks, his nose, his eyebrows. 

“I need you. I just— can I?”

Sylvain kisses him again, softly, and pulls away to speak again, but Felix never quite catches what he says. 

Sylvain wanting sex is a complicated thing. In a conversation they’ve had, Sylvain had talked about how, in his life, too many people have wanted sex from him in too many ways. Then, Dimitri and Felix had been mostly hands-off with him, letting Sylvain come to them to avoid pressuring him. In other conversations, Sylvain has talked about how he feels horrible when he’s always the one asking for sex from the two of them, how it makes him feel dirty like he’s the one that’s always taking advantage. After telling him that, no, he's not a nymphomaniac, and that nothing he was feeling made him fucked up, they started coming to him more often. 

It was a difficult line to balance, but Felix knows that often the way it goes is this: When Dimitri wants to have sex, he usually shares those moments with Sylvain, but sometimes will come to Felix. When Sylvain wants to have sex, he’ll usually go to Felix. When Felix wants to have sex, well…

Felix realizes that he’s never the one to really ask for sex.

He usually just waits for when Sylvain needs it, it’s usually not long to wait. Or he’ll wait for when Dimitri’s ready. But, he realizes the occasions are far between that he’ll ever be the one asking his boyfriends to have sex with him. 

Sylvain is still talking, and Felix realizes he hasn’t been listening to much of what he’s been saying. Something about Felix’s day at the gym. Felix feels the fabric of the sweater underneath his fingers. 

“Syl. Can I fuck you?” 

It’s so simple, so crass. But god, he wants it.

Sylvain laughs at him. 

“Of course! I just washed up like an hour ago, I should be fine. Do you want me to go get the lub—” Felix interrupts him with his lips again, but he really doesn’t think Sylvain minds very much. 

Sylvain’s tongue is soft in his mouth, and like always, he doesn’t put up much of a fight when Felix kisses him deep, making him drool. He loves how wet their kisses can get, how shamelessly sloppy Sylvain lets himself be. Sylvain must have trimmed his beard a few ago, so the little beginnings of a beard scratch against Felix’s chin while he kisses his jaw again and again and again. 

Sylvain moans, just from getting kissed. Felix wonders for a moment why he hasn’t popped the question yet. 

“Good,” he tells Sylvain, soft against his lips, and Sylvain moans louder this time. “You’re so good.” 

“You can’t do that to me, Fe. I didn’t—”

“I can’t what? Tell you how good you are?”

“You’re gonna kill me, Felix.” Sylvain is blushing heavy, and Felix likes this. He usually starts the praise once they’re already more into things, but it’s fun to get Sylvain all embarrassed now. 

“You can take it.” He looks Sylvain in the eyes, Sylvain looks back at him, and then away, downcast in his flushed state. “You’re good like that.”

“Feeelix,” he complains. Adorable. 

Felix kisses him again and brings a hand down to touch his erection through his pajama shorts. Sylvain shivers underneath him at the touch but then starts moaning heartily into the kiss.

Steadily, Felix works at kissing down Sylvain's jaw, until he’s at the man’s neck, below where his beard ends. The skin there is soft, sweaty, and Felix realizes he can’t do quite the damage he’d like there with the sweater still on. He would never remove it, though, not now, not after it took so long for Sylvain to get it on. So he licks long lines up Sylvain’s neck, leaves dark marks against his neck while Sylvain can’t stop moving his hips against Felix’s hand. 

They’re like that a while until Sylvain’s breath comes in short gasps, and his little movements start becoming full-on thrusts. Felix moves away, admiring his handiwork, and it’s perfect. Sylvain looks _owned._

“Felix…”

Felix looks at him, listens to him. He feels like he’s the one that’s going crazy. Everything feels hot and wet, and Sylvain looks up at him like he’s blind to everything else in the world. “What do you need? Tell me.”

Usually, it’s Felix who organizes the scenes between him and Sylvain. He’ll make Sylvain make choices, definitely, but he’s the one guiding Sylvain through the experience. He hasn’t planned for anything, though, just knows that he wants. Sylvain gasps, but Felix doesn’t really notice what at. 

“Your mouth. Can I have your mouth?” 

Felix almost moves and then remembers he forgot to ask an important question. Can’t be getting sloppy just because he’s into it. “How do you ask nicely?”

“Please, Fe. Can I have your mouth?”

“Good boy.” Felix can hear Sylvain groan from his chest again as Felix shimmies down his chest, to shove down the waistband on his pajamas shorts. Not wanting to do it later, he takes off the shorts entirely, so he can get to one of his favorite places in the world, between Sylvain’s legs. He splays one out up against the back of the couch, leaving Sylvain delightfully open. “No hands, remember?”

“Yeah, Fe.”

He doesn’t need to push the sweater that high up so he can get to Sylvain’s cock. Everything is sweaty under there, but Sylvain’s cock is red, hard, and dripping. It’s so easy to take him in his mouth, hold his hips down so Sylvain can’t take his pleasure for himself. 

Felix never really tries to take Sylvain all the way down, but it’s better that way, he thinks. Now, he can control exactly everything Sylvain feels. He can run his tongue up him the perfect way, hold him steady with his hand while he suckles at his tip. He can feel Sylvain shiver underneath him as he sucks him deep and squeezes him with his hand.

Felix can’t quite see it out of the corner of his eye but can feel Sylvain’s hands moving. He does this sometimes when Felix doesn’t let Sylvain touch him, but he doesn’t know where else to put them. At one second, they’ll be on his chest, the next on the couch beside him, the next above his head, like he doesn’t know what to do with his lust, where to put it. Felix loves it, though, when Sylvain can’t do anything but feel his own pleasure. 

Sylvain moans start forming words, and it’s beautiful. Little “please”’s and “fuck me”’s, and everything that sounds straight out of Felix’s fantasies. Felix uses the hand currently not holding Sylvain’s dick steady to splay up underneath the sweater, so he can kiss his dick sideways. His hands move across Sylvain’s belly, into his chest hair, and against a nipple to pluck a few times. 

He looks good in the sweater, Felix thinks. He loves that he’s making Sylvain sweat in it, that the back of it is already damp with how hot he runs. It’s not even warm out that day, still in October, but the air between them feels like the hottest, wettest summer. He wants to get his phone out, take pictures of Sylvain gasping and begging in Felix’s sweater.

He lets go of Sylvain’s cock with his hand, so he can take him in deeper. When he cups his boyfriend’s balls, he’s pretty sure Sylvain forgets how to say words for a few minutes with his babbling, and he’s so beautiful. Sounds so good. Desperate. All he can hear is Sylvain gasping “fuck me” over and over and over again, like Felix has told him he wasn’t allowed to say anything else.

As loud as they are, Felix and Sylvain still jump when they hear another voice in the room. 

“I think you’ll be needing this.” 

Felix’s head whips off Sylvain’s dick and around the room, and of course, it’s Dimitri, because who else could it be? It’s not a good time for Felix to start hallucinating too right now. But there Dimitri stands in the doorway to the bedroom hallway, all six feet and two inches of muscle Felix still _cannot_ understand how he gained, holding a bottle of lube. It takes Felix much shorter this time to notice that Dimitri is wearing another of Felix’s sweater.

The bastard. The crazy, crazy bastard.

This was totally a setup.

His dick is much too hard to care, though, and Sylvain is still gasping underneath him. “Come here,” Felix says, and Dimitri moves closer to them, kneeling down beside the couch where Felix had been only a short bit ago. 

“You two look like you’re having fun.” Dimitri says. He gives Sylvain a kiss on the mouth, and Felix can see their tongues move between them like this was a fucking hentai.

They were totally putting on a show. 

He’ll take the show while he gets it, though, and keeps his fingers massaging Sylvain’s balls while the two kiss loudly in front of him. When they part, both of their lips are glistening, and Felix swears for a moment he can see a string of spit between the two of them. It’s so horribly perfect, Felix is so turned on he can barely feel his hands. 

“Can I join in?” Dimitri asks them, but Felix has a feeling Sylvain already knows Dimitri is in the mood. The fucking schemers. He didn’t know that either of them was smart enough for this sort of stuff.

“Get behind him. Play with his chest.” 

Dimitri takes orders well and tucks himself behind Sylvain against the arm of the couch when Sylvain straightens his back to let him move there. Now, Sylvain is propped up more, back against Dimitri’s chest, and Felix can see both of his boyfriends more clearly. Sylvain’s face is as red as his beard, and Dimitri sports a sweet little blush as well. 

“Go on.” Felix says. And then Dimitri’s hands, rough and big, slide the hem of Felix’s sweater up Sylvain’s chest. Inches of skin get revealed, and Sylvain’s back bows forward, thrusting his chest out. He totally wants this.

Dimitri is good at what he does. Felix himself becomes mesmerized for a moment, watching Dimitri grope at Sylvain’s chest, tugging at his nipples. God, they looked good. “Good boy,” Felix says.

Sylvain whines underneath him, in that bratty, complainant way. 

“Well, what’s to say I wasn’t talking to you?” Felix snaps down at him. He doesn’t mind it when Sylvain turns bratty. 

Dimitri’s hand scratches against Sylvain’s chest, but not in the punishing way Felix would do it. Instead, he’s gentle, and Sylvain moans below him again. “Shh, Fe. Look, he’s being good.”

Sylvain makes more soft noises underneath them. Felix spreads lube on his fingers. 

“I don’t know about that, Dimitri. Think he needs to prove to us how good he can be.”

Sylvain still seems to have lost access to human language, but Felix thinks that might have something to do with the way Dimitri was playing with Sylvain’s tits and telling him what a good boy he was, over and over. Simp. 

He draws his fingers across Sylvain’s hole, and the man barely even reacts to it. Everything Felix and Dimitri have done to him, are currently doing to him, have turned him into jelly, and he just stays there, letting the sensations wash over him. So Felix doesn’t linger, breeching one finger inside.

Sylvain is even warmer on the inside than he is on the outside. He’s as relaxed as if Felix had just eaten him out, and takes his finger so well. His hips don’t rock back or anything, he just lies there and takes it, and as much as Felix wants to prolong this experience, he’s adding another finger quicker than he planned, just because Sylvain is so hungry for it.

As he slowly pulls his finger in and out of Sylvain, he looks up at his boyfriends. Sylvain’s face is contorted in some image of pleasure, and he looks up at Dimitri. Dimitri in turn is looking down at him, and whispering things to him that make Sylvain look like he’s either going to cum or cry, or both. Dimitri’s large hands are still on Sylvain’s pectorals, squeezing him. The sweater looks so good shucked up on him like this, and Felix feels like he can see all of Sylvain exposed out in front of him. 

He knows it’s him that makes Sylvain moan out when he brushes his finger by his prostate. He knows every spot in Sylvain, has had more than enough time to learn his body thoroughly. Sylvain groans low, still looking up at Dimitri with hearts in his eyes. 

“You wanna fuck him, Dimitri? He’s begging for it.” 

Dimitri’s attention turns toward Felix, and Felix can already see Sylvain flounder at getting ignored for even a moment. 

Dimitri hums low in his throat, and for a second, Felix thinks he’s planning on saying something incredibly dirty before: “I don’t know if I can manage that today. Another time.”

Felix nods and tries not to look discouraged. He’s a boxer, though, he’s good at thinking on his feet. He continues to speak over Sylvain, like he’s not panting in between them, like Felix’s fingers aren’t up his ass. “You want to get fucked by him?” 

Sylvain whines at that again, petulant. 

Felix continues to address only Dimitri. “He’s good for it. He’ll fuck you good, won’t he?” Felix uses his free hand to pet Sylvain’s thigh, and the man stops fussing quite so much.

Dimitri thinks about it a moment, it looks. Then he gives one of Sylvain’s tits a slap, and the man yelps. Cute. “Alright, then. Up.” Sylvain slouches up, and Dimitri wiggles his large body from underneath him. 

Once Dimitri’s stood up, and taking off his boxers, Felix directs his attention to Sylvain, who looks like he’s just run a few miles. “Don’t worry, Syl. You’ll get fucked.” Sylvain gives a little lopsided smile. 

Standing, Dimitri undresses easily, and Felix is happy to see that he looks at least a little aroused. Then, he moves to straddle Sylvain’s chest, thighs on either side of Sylvain’s torso. Felix is happy that Dimitri kept the sweater on, but is also reminded of his boyfriends’ scheming. The dorks. This was their trap, and Felix was the one stuck in it, but damn if he wouldn’t go out fighting. Dimitri reaches a hand behind him, and Felix hands him the lube. 

“Do you want to stretch me out, Syl?”

Felix can’t see Sylvain’s face from here now, with Dimitri’s body (and his cute little ass) blocking the way. Sylvain must nod, though, because Dimitri is squirting lube on Sylvain’s fingers, and Sylvain’s fingers come to Dimitri’s ass.

Apart from not being able to see either of their faces, it’s the perfect angle. He can thoroughly see Sylvain’s finger, and then fingers, thrusting in and out of Dimitri’s ass. Especially, when Dimitri’s back bows forward, his ass jutting out a bit, and. Ah, yes. They were trying to put on a show for him. Bastards. He knows that Dimitri’s moans are honest, though, and doesn’t miss the way his hips thrust back onto Sylvain’s fingers. 

Felix turns his attention back to Sylvain and starts spreading him out in earnest after he sees Sylvain putting the work in for Dimitri. 

They stay like that for a while, until it’s Sylvain to speak up first. “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last, guys.” And a full sentence, too! A miracle. 

“Here,” Felix says, and guides the two. He puts his hands easily on Dimitri’s waist, motioning for him to scoot, and a hand on Sylvain’s thigh. It’s not too far a move, a shifting of bodies really. He keeps Sylvain on his back, with Dimitri kneeling over him, but now Sylvain’s back is slumped against the couch’s back instead of the armrest. Sylvain’s feet touch the ground, but Felix adjusts him so Sylvain’s legs are positioned up on the couch, spread. Yes, this would work. He kneels down beside them, getting a perspective on the situation. 

He decides to tune in to hear what Dimitri’s telling Sylvain. He gets a full five seconds of, “You’re doing so well. We’re going to take such good care of you. You’re being so good for us, Syl, you’re taking it so well. How could you be more perfect?” before Sylvain is moaning, rutting his hips up against Dimitri’s thighs. Felix puts a hand down on his red-haired thighs, stilling him. Then, with a hand on Dimitri’s waist, he helps guide the man down onto Sylvain’s cock. 

The two groan in unison, and Dimitri rocks his hips wantonly. Felix keeps his hand on Dimitri’s waist, caressing him there. After a moment, he decides to stand up fully. Now, he stands above Dimitri’s head, but just a little, and he can lean down to talk in the man’s ear. 

“That’s good, Dima. Look at how happy you’re making him.” Dimitri moans at that, and one of his hands comes up to hold Felix as he lifts his body up to drop himself back down on Sylvain’s cock. 

“I know what I’m doing, Fe,” Dimitri assures him, a little dismissively. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. “It’s just. Bigger than I remembered.” Like Dimitri was allowed to say that with that weapon of mass destruction between his legs. Typical tall-person behavior. 

Felix still pets his side, like he was calming some large wild animal. “Come on, Dima. Make him melt.”

Now that he can see Sylvain, it doesn’t look like that’ll be much of a challenge. Sylvain looks like he’s having an out of body experience, drooling a bit, his eyes glassy but staring up at the two of them. He has a bit of a lopsided smile on his face. He’s stopped trying to find a place to put his hands, and just lets them rest, one at his side, one on his stomach. 

It’s only a minute or two before Dimitri is riding him in earnest, raising and lowering his hips and skewering himself on Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain just moans, and for a moment, closes his eyes, like it’s too intense for him. Felix leans over, to put a hand on Sylvain’s chin, and brown eyes snap open at him. “Keep your head up, Sylvain. Look at him. This is a treat.” 

Felix steals a look at Dimitri and takes a moment to marvel. Dimitri has always been beautiful in hundreds of different ways, but this is something else. His hand still grasps Felix, holding onto him tightly as he thrusts his hips down on Sylvain’s dick. His face is contorted in pleasure but also focused. His eye is slightly downcast, and his patch looks to be slipping from sweat. His mouth is open, as he pants and moans loudly at the feeling of taking his own pleasure. The strings on the hoodie bounce with each thrust. 

“Good, right?” he asks Sylvain, and he feels Sylvain’s head nod dumbly. “Now, do you want to be good for me?” Sylvain moans like he can’t stop himself, and nods faster.

Felix bites his lip and comes back behind Dimitri to kneel in front of the couch. He realizes that he gets to be entirely naked, so strips off his gym shorts, his underwear, his shirt, keeping his eye on the way Dimitri bounces the whole time. He is so beautiful. He pours some more lube to ease his way, and slides himself inside Sylvain, settling comfortably. He hears Sylvain moan at the intrusion, but can’t see him. 

Ah, hearing him should be enough, though. As he begins thrusting into Sylvain, not wasting any time dillydallying with the intensity that he can only imagine from filling someone and getting filled, he speaks out. “Stay with me, Syl, Dimitri needs you.” 

Sylvain moans again, sounds like he’s crying. Felix feels a little dizzy from lust—he didn’t give his dick any attention for a while, and now being inside Sylvain almost feels a little too intense. 

“Does he feel good inside, Syl? Tell me how he feels.”

Dimitri groans, fucking himself down in a particularly good way, and Sylvain opens his mouth and starts babbling.

“Feels so good, Fe. You don’t know, you can’t imagine, you feel so good inside me. And Dimitri, I, it’s so warm, and wet and—” Of course, Felix doesn’t really plan on Sylvain’s words making any sense, but his boyfriend takes direction well. He keeps his mouth running, spilling filthy words, and Felix picks up his speed, loving to hear how Sylvain’s voice breaks when he hits him in the perfect spot.

They stay like that a while, bodies connected, warm and sweaty in their hoodies. Sylvain keeps rambling incoherently, and Felix nearly filters him out as he focuses his attention on fucking Sylvain well. From this angle, he can see everything perfectly, his cock thrusting deep into Sylvain, Dimitri’s ass eagerly swallowing Sylvain’s dick. It was just. Too much perfection.

He goes so deep into the moment that he barely hears Sylvain begging. It’s Dimitri that needs to get his attention, and then Sylvain’s sounds hit him like a truck.

“Please, Fe, please let me cum—I can’t anymore—please, can I cum, Fe—”

Felix makes a sound in his throat he doesn’t know how to classify. He speaks quickly, not wanting to make Sylvain wait any longer. “Good boy. Cum for me, fill Dimitri up.”

And then Sylvain’s hands come to life and hold Dimitri’s hips down as he thrusts into him, tremors running through his body as he shakes. His ass clenches so hard that Felix has to pull out, and just watch Sylvain thrust up into Dimitri.

Eventually, Sylvain’s thighs stop trembling, and Dimitri slumps forward against him. Felix pants along with them, and a lull sets into their lovemaking. He helps lift Dimitri up off Sylvain, watching cum leak from him and onto their carpet. 

“Thank you,” Sylvain says, and his voice comes out breathy. Sylvain still shakes every half-second or so, twitching. “Thank you so much.”

“You did so good, Syl,” Dimitri tells him. “I can barely feel my legs.” A little laugh, low in Dimitri’s chest. Felix wants.

“I can barely feel my anything.” Sylvain says, a little chuckle in his voice as well. Dimitri leans forward, a moment of heavy breaths. They must be kissing. “Thank you,” Sylvain says again after they pull away. 

Felix stands and gets onto the couch beside Sylvain. He feels hilariously naked, even though both of them are only wearing a sweater more than him. “Do you want to tap out while me and Dimitri finish?” Felix asks Sylvain, now that he can see him.

Sylvain shakes his head. “Wanna be with you two. Don’t wanna get left out. Don’t wanna miss anything.” 

“You can’t go anymore, Syl,” Felix warns him. 

“I still have my mouth.” Sylvain’s convincing voice isn’t very convincing.

“You’re ridiculous,” Felix says. He thinks for a moment. Well. Dimitri’s ass was still jutted out, inviting as ever. “You stay right there, Syl.”

Sylvain nods, and settles into his position, expectant.

“Kiss him if you don’t know what to do. You’re allowed to touch him, Syl.” It takes Sylvain a moment to understand what Felix is directing, but then his hands come around Dimitri, across his back, and Felix can see them. Felix pushes Dimitri forward a bit, so he’s more comfortable on all fours, legs spread on either side of Sylvain’s hips. 

From the back still, Felix can see Dimitri’s hair is too long, messy and sticking up at strange angles. He’s beautiful in the hoodie—it fits him so well, and Felix can see the strain of his absurdly defined back muscles through the fabric. And then, under the hem of the sweater, his ass, still dripping from Sylvain. 

Felix touches him there, gathering the dripping liquid and fingering it back into Dimitri.

“Tell me, Dima. Do you want to cum today?”

Dimitri doesn’t say anything a moment, and then shakes his head, slowly. “Let me touch myself. Don’t worry about it too much.” He takes a breath in, Felix can see the heaving breath from his back. 

This question, this discussion, it’s never easy. Felix wants to pleasure his boyfriends, satisfy them. It feels complicated when he doesn’t know if he should even try and make Dimitri cum.

“I’m having fun, Felix.” Dimitri tells him, and then a hand, only slightly wet and sticky, Sylvain’s, touches against Felix’s hand which has at some point come to rest on a muscular thigh. It must be obvious he’s panicking. “I want—I’d rather you didn’t hold back. I want you to use me.”

And that’s not something Felix can really say no to. He lines up and thrusts into Dimitri easily, his hands coming to rest on Dimitri’s skinny waist, and Dimitri groans at the intrusion. Then, there’s the wet noise of Dimitri and Sylvain kissing, and Dimitri’s back bows. 

“That’s good,” Dimitri speaks quiet, against Sylvain’s lips. Felix isn’t really sure who he’s talking to. “Feels so good.”

Felix rocks into him gently, slowly. The key with Dimitri wasn’t to pound him hard, not like Sylvain liked. No, his orgasms had to be wrenched out of him. Though Felix is so close to the edge he feels like anything could push him over, he fucks him carefully, thoroughly. He doesn’t notice Dimitri’s arms have begun to give out until Dimitri’s falling forward, face pressed against the cleavage of Sylvain’s chest. A good place to be. Sylvain’s hands stay on Dimitri’s back, holding him, leaving little scratch marks.

This time, Felix doesn’t feel small. Even though Dimitri is big around him, underneath him, and he sees how much Dimitri needs to contort his large body to kiss Sylvain underneath him. Dimitri’s big, he’s so big, and Felix is small, comparatively. Not dick size or anything, just the size of his body, but still. Right now, Felix doesn’t feel small. No. Instead, he feels big. 

“You’re amazing, Fe,” Dimitri tells him, and Felix is almost disappointed that Dimitri is still capable of speech. He thrusts into him a little harder. “I love you so.”

“You set me up.” The anger in Felix’s voice is so obviously faked that Sylvain laughs from underneath them. 

“You, oh, you needed it, Fe. You weren’t going to do anything for months.” 

“Is that so?” He gives Dimitri another particularly hard thrust, picks up his speed, watches him shudder. “Are you sure you didn’t just want this? You weren’t just finding an excuse to get fucked?”

“I can’t deny that I had a little—a little personal interest in the situation.” Dimitri groans, and puts his face back down on Sylvain’s chest, against his collar bone. Dimitri always sounds so good like this, his voice so deep it resounded in his chest. He could be so much quieter than Sylvain, but his sounds were still so delectable. Sylvain whistles below them. 

Then, Sylvain tells them something about how good they look, and Felix reprimands him for not holding Dimitri down well enough, and Dimitri moans. A perfect circuit. 

It’s not long before Felix is at his limit. His arousal must have built slowly, but now he’s run across the edge. “Dima, I don’t think I can—”

“There we go. Come now, fill me up.” 

And Felix does. He thrusts deep into his boyfriend, and feels four distinct waves of pleasure wash over him, making his fingers feel numb. Felix pants and lets himself collapse down on top of Dimitri a moment, trying to gather himself a moment or two.

Felix feels like he’s going to fall asleep, or pass out, or something, but Dimitri needs him. He pulls out, and touches Dimitri’s back again, willing his legs to not give out under him. He tries not to get distracted with the way his cum drips from Dimitri.

“You don’t need to push yourself if you can’t.” He tells Dimitri, but the fact that he has to pant out a breath every two words doesn’t quite help. 

“I’m close. I think I just… You felt so good, Fe. So good.” Dimitri tries to speak while also focusing on his own hand stroking himself, and he looks like a dream. Felix’s eyes glance up, and he’s able to see Sylvain’s face a moment. They’re both a dream. Felix’s wet dream, actually, for more years than he can remember. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Felix tells him. “My fingers?”

“Nothing, love, you’re perfect, you’re so perfect, I—” And then Sylvain is pulling Dimitri into a kiss, and Felix can hear Dimitri lose himself in it. Dimitri spills over his own hand, onto Sylvain’s belly, letting out a great huffing groan. 

And then, the world is silent for a few moments, as the three of them just breathe in unison. 

And then, Sylvain laughs. He laughs big, full-body, and Felix can see Dimitri’s body shake as Sylvain’s does. Sylvain looks so happy. “Wow. We’re all idiots. I actually don’t know if I can move.” 

“I can,” Dimitri says. “I am desperately in need of a shower, and—Felix, I say this in the kindest of ways—if I don’t take this sweater off, I think I might get heatstroke.”

And then, the world switches back to normal. Sylvain tries to convince Dimitri to let him eat the cum out of his ass. Dimitri’s eyepatch falls off with how sweaty he is and drops in a puddle of spilled lube. The couch is a disaster.

* * *

After that, Dimitri and Sylvain begin wearing Felix’s sweaters a lot more often. Of course, the first few times, Felix continues to pounce on them, but after a week he’s all fucked out, and can only live with the whimsy of his boyfriends wearing his sweaters everywhere. They start washing them themselves, with how often he gets them sweating in them.

After a week, he thought that Dimitri had forgotten his half-promise for a tour around the gym. But as he’s packing up the next Thursday, late into the night—after all the mopping was done, after the late-night class, and going through the training procedures for a new employee—the glass doors open, casting a ray of light into the gym. Felix hadn’t noticed how dark it was until that moment, so used to being there at night. When he’s here alone, he usually has most of the lights off—no need to waste electricity, the power bill was already much too high with the new sound system he’d recently installed. 

He had been cleaning the mirrors because even though the janitor had done it a few hours beforehand and no customers had been in here since they still managed to accrue dust. That’s what he gets for using a second-floor space, he supposes. As light streams in the doorway, he turns around to see the intrusion, spray bottle and rag still in hand.

Inside the doorway, backlit by the light from the hallway, stand Dimitri and Sylvain. In Dimitri’s hands, there’s a. It looks to be a picnic basket, from the silhouette. An actual picnic basket.

“It’s so dark in here!” Sylvain exclaims like it wasn’t obvious.

“It’s dark because we’re closed,” Felix’s voice comes out impatient and rude, but in a way Sylvain and Dimitri surely are used to.

Dimitri is the one to walk in first, settling the picnic basket down on a bench in the low light. “Are you sure it’s not a little bit dangerous? You wouldn’t be able to see if someone unsavory came in.”

“I was able to see you two come in, wasn’t I?” Felix says but still must cover his eyes when Sylvain hits the light switch. Or, as it seems, every light switch. All of the overheads, all of the spotlights come blazing down, the metal of the benches and the ring glaring. He should have never shown Sylvain where the lights were. 

“Still,” Dimitri says, definitively, like that means something.

“We thought we could have dinner here,” Sylvain says from a distance, and then his voice gets louder. “Since you’re here so late.” A shifting of fabric, the sound of a jacket being taken off. 

“And I wanted to come back for my tour,” Dimitri pitches in.

Felix lowers his hand from his eyes, blinking at the light. Horrible. He sets the spray bottle and rag down at his feet, and stumbles over towards the two of them, squinting like a newborn kitten. He should tell them to go home. Being here this late, for an. An indoor picnic with his boyfriends, now that wasn’t exactly professional. “I don’t kno—” Felix begins, but then stops in his tracks as his eyes readjust to focus on Sylvain and Dimitri. They’re both wearing Felix’s sweaters. Dimitri still has a light jacket over his, Sylvain’s jacket balled up on another bench.

Oh. So this confirms it. His boyfriends were actually evil. 

Felix frowns and turns his head away. He doesn’t want them to see him blushing. “If any crumbs get on the floor, you’re sweeping, Syl.” 

Sylvain takes out a picnic blanket, though, which he somehow convinces Felix to let him spread out in the middle of the ring. They sit on the floor there, surrounded by the bungee cord on all sides, with a magnum of Barefoot Moscato, falafel sandwiches, and at least four orders of fries. Sylvain has also brought Felix a smoothie, _”to get some fruit in him”_ , which Felix hates to admit has the exact balance of fruits he likes. He can tell that Sylvain remembered to order it with soy milk and a half spoon of protein powder. Felix feels very homophobic towards himself at that moment. Being gay is horrible. Sylvain sucks, and Felix hates that he’s in love with him.

Dimitri keeps pointing out different things in the gym main space like they’re the most amazing things in the world. Some of them, Felix is quite proud of. “Did you get that neon art commissioned custom?” And some of them, Felix has no idea what the big deal is. “That’s one of those water bottle fountains that counts the number of plastic bottles you’ve saved!” He starts worrying a bit. Damn, Dimitri really doesn’t get out enough.

But his boyfriends are comfortable and cozy in their sweaters, even as the night breeze makes the interior of the gym cold with the bad ventilation and large windows. Felix finds himself getting drunk, and even then, his lust for them in those sweaters overwritten by pure affection. Perhaps he should be horny. No, instead, it’s just. Comfortable. 

And time goes on.

Dimitri will wear his sweater to therapy, sometimes, and says that the fabric makes him feel comfortable when he sits in the chair, even if it’s not his comfort fabric. Sylvain will send gym selfies and random nudes of him in his sweater, lifting the hem up so Felix can see his tummy.

Felix very consciously thinks _”his”_ sweater, because after a month, that’s what they become. Sylvain’s Felix Sweater, Dimitri’s Felix sweater. They wear them all the time, on dates, around the house. They fit the two much better than they ever fit Felix, and even though neither of them wears black all that often, it looks good on them. Natural.

And, it takes Felix another month or so to understand that he, in the most complicated, long-winded, roundabout, absolutely batshit crazy way, gave Sylvain and Dimitri gifts. The sweaters are presents in a way. Things he bought specifically for them. When he was out in the store with Dimitri, he didn’t know that the sweaters were going to become everyday pieces of their lives, but he bought them for the two to wear nonetheless.

It’s silly how it takes him months, over fifty dollars worth of extra-extra-large sweatshirts, and a few sessions of over-sharing with his therapist to figure out that this love language—gestures of affection—suited him just as well as it did Sylvain. That the simplicity of giving gifts made him happy. 

Asking for things that he wants, admitting to himself that he wants things, still sometimes poses a difficulty. But now, he finds that there are a few more paths he can take, long-winded as they may be, speak those desires aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> join me on twitter [@lawfulboi](https://twitter.com/lawfulboi)! please yell at me about these boys, or any other boys!
> 
> also, if you like my writing, feel free to read any of my other three fire-emblem fics, which i kindly call:  
> [ferdibert titty indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046462/chapters/57863050)  
> [dimilix angst indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097423)  
> [ferdibert blood indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185917/chapters/58254484)
> 
> and soon i'm starting a new multichapter ferdibert E-rated fic that i'm super super excited about as well!

**Author's Note:**

> 6/4/2020 edit:
> 
> i've decided that this is going to be part 1 of a series! it'll end up being a triptych. since i won't be responding to a kink meme prompt with the next two, it'll probably be a little bit angstier, but similarly smutty, and focus on how their loving relationship. dm me on twitter or leave a comment if you have any ideas/requests, i'm always down to talk about it! 
> 
> part 2 will focus on sylvain and will take place at a ski cabin while the boys are on vacation.


End file.
